


The Bastard that Stole Christmas

by EveryHybrid



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Tales from the Gas Station
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryHybrid/pseuds/EveryHybrid
Summary: Jack and Jerry are trying their best to have a super soft, fluffy Christmas. And then Spencer shows up.
Relationships: Jack/Jerry (Tales From the Gas Station)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

"Once in a lifetime" was a phrase that was used a little too often around here. The snow storm last year was also "once in a lifetime". Yet this one, this year, definitely in the same lifetime, was happening right outside the window. 

The way the flakes were coming down, we knew we were probably going to get snowed in. Jerry made a snowpocalypse run to the grocery store and stocked up on what he swore was enough to keep us alive for a week. There was a suspicious amount of Funyuns, though…

I stayed home and tried my best to not freeze to death, all while being grateful that I didn't have to be at work. One of the perks of owning the gas station now was closing whenever this "once in a lifetime" weather made its annual appearance.

I was currently buried in a book; the one Jerry had gotten me for Christmas but was too impatient to wait for me to open. It was a space odyssey, but with pirates transported from the 1600s. I'd already read about half before I was drug away for yet another holiday festivity.

Jerry was...extremely into Christmas, and holidays in general. Our house looked like a Hallmark store threw up, and the smell of sugar cookies hung in the air constantly. I wasn't going to complain about the cookies. The constant Pinterest projects, maybe. Although I had to admit, this little improv vacation was nice. My home was homier than ever, and I was spending it with my favorite human. 

"Is it getting dark earlier these days?" I had looked up from my string of popcorn garland that Jerry was forcing me to make to glance out the window. It was pitch black dark...really dark. Wait…

Jerry hopped up and ran to the window. He threw it open to confirm my awful suspicion. There was a solid wall of fresh laid snow between us and the outside world. Jerry took a scoop and plopped it into his eggnog. 

"Snow cream," He explained, as if  _ that _ was the reason my face looked the way it did. 

"Holy shit, how did it pile up that fast?! We're gonna' be stuck for a week!" 

"Well...this is awkward." 

Jerry and I both whipped around, our eyes darting to the source of an awfully familiar voice. There, standing in the hall, was Spencer  _ Fucking _ Middleton. 


	2. Chapter 2

I instinctively ran to the "Open in case of Spencer" emergency kit and pulled out my trusty baseball bat. I held it up and at the ready, prepared to send this bastard for a home run if I had to. 

"What the fuck are you doing in our house?!" I yelled, maybe a little more shrill than I would have liked. I was scared, okay? 

Spencer held up a handful of wires and tiny electronics. "Placing spy cameras, what else?" 

"You put those in our bedroom? Dude, that's a little too Norman Bates, even for you," Jerry, who wasn't nearly as shaken by this situation as he should have been, gave a grimace at the idea. 

" _ Your _ bedroom? You two are, what, a thing now?" 

God this was uncomfortable.

"What if I asked nicely. Spencer,  _ please _ , GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR HOUSE!" I wasn't typically the shouting type. But I also didn't typically find a psychopath setting up spy cameras in my house. 

He held his hands up in a nonchalant "oops, you caught me" kind of way. 

"I'd love to leave you two to play house and all, but all the windows are blocked. I already looked." 

"Well, then, I don't know, do that thing where you magically appear, but do it  _ somewhere else. _ " 

"I don't  _ magically appear _ , dumbass. I broke in through the basement window like a normal goddamn person." 

"If you two are done flirting, there's about fifty-leven more of these popcorn strings we gotta' make if we want to cover that tree I brought home." Jerry had sat himself on the floor next to the bowl of popped popcorn and was stringing it again. 

"Jerry, you can't be serious." I was stunned. How was he not freaking out about this? Did he suddenly forget who Spencer was?

"Six hands are better than four," Jerry said in a sing-song voice. Then Spencer caught on.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm here to set this shit up and get paid, not play patty cake with the village idiots." 

"Well, we've got snow piled up higher than a cat in a nip factory, and I've got a whole itinerary of holiday cheer to get through. So you can either man up and string this popcorn, or you can stand there and cry about it." 

Wow, Jerry was really popping off to this guy. I grit my teeth and glanced between Jerry and Spencer, hoping to god I wouldn't actually have to use this bat. If Spencer made a move for Jerry, he was going to regret it. Hopefully. 

Instead, it seemed that Jerry's speech had short circuited the mad man's brain. Spencer stared at us both blankly for a few seconds. Finally, he scowled and turned on his heel. 

"I'm digging my way out of here," He growled as he made his way back up the hall, "Your sorry asses can stay here and rot."


	3. Chapter 3

An hour passed before we heard from our stow away again. Aside from the occasional bumping around from various rooms up the hall, Spencer had all but disappeared. I stayed on red alert while I cut out my paper snowflakes. If worse came to worse, I could always stab him with these scissors…

And then he stormed through the living room, stepping on  _ my _ snowflake pile with his big, dumb boots, and went for the kitchen. Jerry and I paused as we listened to Spencer rummage through the drawers.

"Don't you assholes have a shovel around here?!" He was clearly annoyed.

"In the shed," I answered, "Outside." 

"You wonder how I always get the jump on you. You fuckers are never prepared for  _ anything _ ."

"That's rude." 

Spencer stomped back through the living room with a spoon in his hand before disappearing up the hall again.

Another hour passed before he came back. His hands were red and frostbitten, and his eyes were full of anger and hate. He spoke through gritted teeth. "It looks like we're stuck here."

"No shit, genius," Jerry quipped. "Now sit down and cut out some snow flakes." 

Spencer let out a rage sound and stormed off into the kitchen again. We could hear water running. Finally, he came back with a bowl of warm water, which he sat on the couch with and soaked his hands. 

"Don't spill that on the leather," I warned him. That would have been a very Spencer thing to do. He flipped me off with a wet hand before messily plopping it back in the water.

Jerry stopped humming "Christmas in Hollywood" to speak. "You know, Spencer, buddy, if you're gonna' partake in our Christmas special, you might as well have a little fun." 

"Beating the shit out of people is fun. Cutting out dumb little snowflakes is stupid." 

"There's no salt allowed in the living room, sir." 

Spencer made another enraged growled as he snatched his bowl of water, spilling some on  _ my _ snowflake pile, and stormed off up the hall again.


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of cookies baking filled the house as Jerry whipped up yet another batch. I'd eaten so many cookies in the last few days that my blood was probably at least 30% frosting. I'd definitely gained a few well needed pounds. That was one thing I loved about living with Jerry: he always reminded me to eat. And the stuff he made, while...unorthodox, was still a step up from my usual diet. 

I'd almost forgotten about the bloodthirsty killer sharing the house with us as I frosted a little sugar cookie snowman. The counters were covered in flat pans, and in the chaos, Spencer had slipped my mind. That was, until I realized he was standing at the kitchen entrance, watching us. 

"JESUS FUCK." I jumped so hard that my snow man fell and hit the floor. Spencer let out a cruel laugh. 

"You Martha Stewart wannabes are just too fucking precious. Do you even care that we're stuck here?"

"If you want a cookie, Spencer, you can just ask," Jerry didn't even look up from the snowman with a prosthetic leg he was working on. 

"I don't want that shit." He paused for a second, eyeing a Tupperware full on the end of the counter. "Is that shortbread?"

Before either of us could answer, he'd snatched the whole damn thing and made off with it. That son of a bitch. I hated him _so fucking much._

Another hour passed and we'd moved on to sitting on the couch, me huddling under a heat blanket, watching Christmas specials. Jerry's arm was around my shoulder, and I felt at peace again as I leaned against him. You know who hadn't made a peep, and things were looking up. 

Then, the TV flickered. The lamp beside us made a crackle as it suddenly died. I sat up immediately.

"Did we just lose power?" 

"Looks like it. Don't worry, I got plenty of firewood to keep the fireplace going…outside...oh." Jerry frowned and glanced at the three logs he'd stacked by the fireplace. It was hardly enough to last the night, let alone until all that snow melted.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to snuggle for warmth then," He put his arms around me and I felt a little more at ease. At least until Spencer appeared again.

"Power's out," He griped, as if we hadn't noticed, "And I can't get any cell service in this damn storm, and I _always_ have cell service." He paused to look at us, an expression of disgust flashed across his face. "Well? Do either of you dumbasses have a plan?"

" _My_ plan was to watch every Christmas episode ever all night and get hammered. We can still do the second part!" Jerry leaned over to the side table that was currently covered in booze and picked up the third white Russian he'd pounded tonight. 

Spencer let out an exasperated cry. "Of all the people I had to get stuck with, it _would_ be you numbnuts." 

"Well when you get done being a pissy little piss pot and wanna' turn that frown upside down, I have plenty of booze to go around." 

A drunk Spencer. Now there was a thought. Although, I would bet money that he was probably the belligerent type of drunk, not the cuddly Jerry type. 

"Or you could lock yourself in the guest bedroom and we can forget you're even here." Jerry elbowed me. 

"That's not the Christmas spirit, Jack," He chided. 

"Christmas spirit?! Spencer is the exact opposite of Christmas spirit. He's like...the Krampus or something. He's never gonna' be in the "Christmas Spirit"."

"For once, Jack and I agree." Spencer snatched a bottle of vodka off the makeshift booze bar and turned to go hide again. "I'm gonna' need this to survive this bullshit," he growled on his way out. 

I settled back in next to Jerry. Hopefully, Spencer would drink until he passed out and we wouldn't hear from him again. Or, with luck, he would get alcohol poisoning. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was past 1 in the morning and Jerry had gotten pretty wasted. I wasn't supposed to mix alcohol with my meds, so I'd mostly abstained from his booze shenanigans. The temperature in the house had dropped down to the mid 50's, but was still bearable for now. I decided it was probably time to drag Jerry off the couch and get ready for bed.

While Jerry staggered up the hall to our bedroom, I went around the living room and blew out the obscene amount of Yankee Candles that he had lit. As it got darker with each extinguished wick, I was reminded that Spencer could be lurking anywhere. When the last one was out, I quickly made a run for the master bedroom. 

I noticed that the guest bedroom where I assumed Spencer had set up camp was shut and there wasn't any sound coming from behind the door. Was he asleep? _Did_ Spencer sleep? For some reason it was hard to imagine him having common human weaknesses, like exhaustion and hunger. 

I shut the door to our bedroom and locked it. Jerry had already stripped down to his boxers and collapsed on top of the covers. I left him alone for a bit while I carefully searched the room for Spencer's spy cameras. I found a couple, but there was sure to be more. At this point, I'd almost resigned myself to no longer having any ounce of privacy. 

When I came back to the bed, I carefully pulled the covers out from under Jerry and covered him with them. He was a heavy sleeper, especially when he was this drunk, so he didn't wake up. Once he was squared away, I climbed in under the covers and tucked myself next to him. I could almost feel the house getting colder with each minute. Lucky for me, Jerry put off enough heat for the both of us. 

I knew better than to expect a good night's sleep. After tonight's events, all the medicine in the world couldn't have knocked me out. For the most part, I laid awake and listened to each and every little bump and crack the house made, making sure it wasn't Spencer coming to kill us. 

At some point, I must have finally dozed off. I knew this because I woke up with Jerry wrapped around me with both arms and legs. He was still sound asleep, and extremely warm, but my bladder's urgent need to empty itself forced me to detangle from him and trudge to the bathroom.

_Holy shit it's cold._ I stopped by the thermostat to check the temperature in the house. It was sitting pretty at 33 degrees Fahrenheit. It was literally almost freezing and it was just too much. I shivered violently as I scurried to the bathroom to relieve myself. The faucet was still dripping, so at least the pipes hadn't frozen...yet. 

By the time I got back into bed, my cold hands must have felt like ice cubes. As soon as I put them on Jerry's chest, he startled awake.

"Oh shit, ice demon!" He shouted. He took a moment to blink the sleep away and realize that I wasn't an ice demon. I was just really cold. "Oh, Jack Attack, it's just you." Jerry took my hands, my fingernails already halfway to blue, and held them in his. Jerry had always had a strange tolerance to cold, and I was as grateful for it now as I ever was. 

Honestly, I would have been perfectly content sitting in bed all day and being the little spoon. A rude interruption from our uninvited house guest ruined that plan, though. Or, at least, we assumed the loud crack we heard from the living room was Spencer. Probably up to no good. 

I groaned as I pulled away from Jerry and climbed out of bed. I slid on my fuzzy slippers, a gift from Rosa, and pulled my ugly Christmas sweater on over top of my flannel pajamas. Jerry beat me to the door, and would have gone out in his boxers if I hadn't have stopped him. By the time he'd pulled on some pants and a robe, there was a concerning amount of noise coming from the living room.

We made our way up front and saw Spencer dismantling our kitchen chairs and throwing them into the fire place, which had a roaring fire in it.

"What the hell, dude?!" My mouth gaped at the absolute audacity this guy had. 

"You dumbasses ran out of fire wood, and I don't plan on freezing to death," Spencer snapped as he tore the leg off a chair and added it to the inferno. I had to admit, the living room _was_ pleasantly warm. But fuck him anyway.

Our cast iron skillet caught my attention, placed next to the fireplace with what looked like some kind of breakfast scramble in it. The smell coming from it reminded me that I was really hungry for something that wasn't Christmas cookies. 

"There's food on the kitchen counter. I made a lot of this shit." Spencer's words took me by surprise. He...made extra food...for us? 

"Is it poisoned?" I blurted out immediately. Spencer let out a brief cackle.

"Don't flatter yourself."

That wasn't a "no". 

"Sweet!" Jerry made a beeline for the suspicious breakfast before I could stop him. He'd already eaten a forkful by the time I reached him to try and slap the utensil out of his hands. "Relax. It tastes fine. Who knew ol' Suspenster could cook?"

"Don't call me that," Spencer chimed in from the other room. 

I looked around Jerry at the food in question. It looked like eggs, potatoes, and an array of peppers and onions mixed with a little cheese and seasoning. It looked shockingly edible. Which begged the question: Why the hell was Spencer suddenly offering this olive branch? 

I was reminded of the Greek mythology of Persophone and Hades where, after eating the food of the underworld, Persophone was forever bound to it. Of course, in that story, Persophone eventually fell in love with Hades and this analogy was suddenly very inaccurate and completely unrelatable. 

By the time I snapped out of it, I realized that I was standing alone, still staring at the breakfast offering. Jerry was in the living room sat by the fire. I hesitantly spooned the remaining portion onto a plate and went to join him. Spencer was sitting cross legged on the other side of the fire place.

"Uh, thanks for...making breakfast...but why?" I couldn't let this go, and I was absolutely sure that Jerry hadn't bothered to question it. 

"Why not? Haven't you ever heard of not looking a horse gift in the mouth?"

"That's not how that saying goes. And I thought you wanted us dead?"

Spencer chuckled that evil chuckle of his. "No, I don't want you jackasses dead. I still need you both for future plans." Well, _that_ wasn't ominous and cryptic as hell. 

Jerry belched and set his empty plate aside. "Well _I_ think there might be hope for your Christmas spirit yet, Spenster."

"Don't call me that."

"You wanna' make snow globes with us?" 

"Hell no." To punctuate his words, Spencer stood and slunk out of the room. 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready for some soft shit? Because I sure am.

Jerry had pinned enough Pinterest projects to last us a month. There was an entire corner of the house dedicated to Christmas crafts. The snowglobe ornaments were simple enough: clear plastic ball ornaments with fake snow and tiny items intended for dioramas and those table top model train things. 

We set up by the fire and began making a mess trying to funnel the "snow" into the little balls. I expected we'd have at least an hour to ourselves before Spencer got bored and came back, but I was wrong. Maybe it was the cold forcing him back into the warmest room in the house. Spencer slunk back in, vodka bottle in hand, and took a spot on the couch. He paused to look at our ornaments and laugh.

"That's the gayest shit I've ever seen."

"Thanks," Jerry grinned. Spencer frowned and muttered to himself as he went to flop down onto the sofa. 

I did my best to ignore Spencer, but he kept cutting in with "advice" on how my little snowglobe scenes should look. 

"Put the kids _in front_ of the train."

"Glue some of that white shit around the dog's mouth. Make him Cujo." 

"Glue the cat to the top of the tree."

"You know, Spencer, you can come make your own if you want." Jerry stopped humming "That Christmas Song" by DWV to talk. Spencer scoffed, rolled his eyes, and sat silently for a while. Then he finally broke down and came to sit on the floor with us.

"Give me that shit," He said, his words a little slurred. How much had he drank? "Got any red paint?"

Spencer's snowglobes were just as terrifying as one would imagine. He even cut a leg off one of the miniature people and tied him to the front of a miniature truck. 

"Look Jack, it's you," He was so fucking proud of himself.

"Gee, thanks," I muttered. 

Jerry was absolutely thrilled that Spencer was partaking in the Christmas festivities. He even gave him a few ideas for morbid scenes. When we finished, the floor around us was covered in fake snow and mutilated figurines. 

I helped Jerry sweep up while Spencer bitched about how cold the house had gotten. He was wearing the same black thermal shirt and black jeans he'd been wearing when he broke in, and didn't appear to have a coat. Meanwhile, Jerry and I had piled on several layers by now. 

"OH! I have something you can change in to!" Jerry sprung into action and ran up the hall. I already knew what he was going for, and I couldn't help but smirk. He came back with a fuzzy green abomination of a sweater with the Grinch's face on it. Spencer balked. 

"I'm not wearing that shit!" 

Less than an hour later, he was wearing that shit. 

I tried my best to hide the fact that I'd taken like fifty pictures of him, and bit my lip to keep from laughing. This shitty Christmas party was starting to look up. I wondered how much other dumb shit would could get Drunk Spencer™ to do. As it turned out, a lot.

He actually joined us making gingerbread houses. His took the shape of some sort of murder shack, but Jerry insisted that it still counted and was to be displayed with ours. I did my best to follow the directions on the box, but mine still collapsed.

"Doesn't matter, it's going on the display!" Jerry whisked my failure away to the mantle to set next to his extremely impressive gingerbread model of the gas station. 

The fire died down, and the ridiculous cold from outside started creeping in again. Our kitchen chair wood was almost gone, so our next activity was finding more things to burn. 

Spencer was all about building the fire, which was mildly concerning given the rumors about his childhood. I had to assume he wasn't dumb enough to arson the house we were trapped in. 

Once the fire was going again, Jerry began throwing some form of lunch together. He made some sort of fancy grilled cheese sandwiches that we could cook in the skillet over the fire, and they turned out pretty good. Spencer didn't like my technique, so he snatched the skillet from me, called me a mean name, and did it for me. His over-the-fire cooking skills were pretty impressive, I had to admit. 

By late afternoon, Jerry had convinced Spencer to trade his boots out for the slippers that matched the sweater, and his jeans for some fuzzy pajama pants. He looked absolutely ridiculous and it was great. I snuck plenty of pictures for future blackmail material. 

We made some campfire hot chocolate, made enough ornaments to fill Jerry's massive Christmas tree, and decorated several wreaths. All the while, both Jerry and Spencer got drunker and drunker. I was genuinely shocked when the singing began. 

The two were belting out classic holiday songs like they were best buds, and I did _not_ see this coming. Their drunken racket was deafening. Luckily, they wore themselves out pretty quickly. 

By the time our usual bedtime rolled around, Spencer was already on the floor, slumped against the couch, unconscious. Jerry brought some bedding up front so we could camp out in front of the fire. He reported that the bedrooms up the hall were "colder than a rich widow's wink". 

I was a little put off by the idea of sharing my sleeping space with Spencer Fucking Middleton, but he seemed to have behaved himself fairly well. And as tempting as shoving him into the bedroom and blocking the door was, I couldn't help but think that even Spencer didn't deserve to freeze to death. 

I nestled into our makeshift bed closest to the fire, and Jerry laid down behind me and wrapped an arm around my torso. It was actually really comfy and great until Spencer woke up. 

"Oh fuck," he slurred, his shivering evident in his voice. He'd passed out without the foresight to grab a blanket or anything, and the house had become aggressively cold. Even the crackling fire had trouble keeping up. 

"You wanna' come cuddle up over here? Plenty of plot device to go around!" 

"Jerry, no," I hush whispered. Spencer looked over at us. I was absolutely certain that he would dismiss the offer as "some gay shit" or something equally derogatory. But, to my horror and surprise, he came over and slowly laid down next to Jerry. 

"There's no shame in survival cuddles," Jerry said with a grin, extremely pleased with himself. I couldn't believe this shit. Spencer only muttered something under his breath and turned his back to us. Jerry settled back down, and I was apparently the only sane one left in the room. And that, in and of itself, was a scary concept. 

"You know, they say you get warmer when you take your clothes off."

I elbowed Jerry hard. 


	7. Chapter 7

I laid awake for a long time, listening to the fire crackle and die. As the embers slowly turned to ash, the room grew colder. I don't know how long I'd been lying there when I realized that my toes were completely numb. I turned over and shook Jerry's shoulder.

"Huh? Wha?" He woke up from his booze induced coma and cracked his eyes open. They took a moment to find my concerned face.

"Jerry, I'm, like, _really_ cold." I didn't really know what I expected him to do about it, honestly. But I knew I couldn't afford to get frostbite on my only foot. Jerry grunted as he raised up onto his elbow. 

"You wanna' switch with me and be in the middle?" 

"No," I said quickly. I think I'd rather lose my other foot than cuddle up to _fucking Spencer_. 

"Come on Jackie, don't be that way." Jerry was already moving to let me in his spot. I stood my ground for a moment longer. But, ultimately, I decided that my foot was worth more than my pride. I slowly crawled into Jerry's spot, which was significantly warmer than my own. Unlike me, he had enough muscle and body fat to actually produce heat. And Spencer was no bean pole either. 

I put my back to my least favorite person on the planet and turned to face Jerry. He laid down next to me and put his arms around me again. I buried my cold face into his shirt. The chill slowly faded, and I was finally able to actually get a little bit of sleep. 

I was the first to wake up again. Probably because the other two were still sleeping off getting black out drunk. Jerry still had one arm around me. My nose was red from the cold again, and I pressed it against his fuzzy sweater to warm my face back up. 

Wait...fuzzy sweater? 

It was that instant that I realized the arm around me wasn't Jerry's, and I'd turned over in my sleep at some point. My initial instinct was to pull away and pretend that this moment hadn't happened. And I hated Spencer even more for making me hesitate to do so. Despite his cold, dead heart, he was incredibly warm. 

I slid out from under the psychopath's arm and thanked my lucky stars that he didn't wake up. Now was as good a time as any to start building that fire back up. 

Our burn pile was running low, but I managed to use some old junk mail to get the flames going again. The other two woke up a little while later, and Jerry started working on some form of breakfast.

Spencer was hung over and extra pissy. He snapped at us whenever he spoke and brooded on the couch when he was quiet. He finally accepted Jerry's special hang over cure concoction, which only slightly improved his mood. 

The day was spent going through our things, figuring out what we could use to survive and what was useless. It was looking like we'd be stuck for the long haul. Around midday, the power finally came back on and I almost cried. 

I spent the next few hours defrosting under my heat blanket, turned on "high". Spencer slunk off at some point to take a hot shower, which honestly didn't seem like a bad idea. 

By that night, we'd all cleaned up, put our remaining furniture back, cooked some non-campfire food, and settled on playing cards in the living room. 

"How long do you think we'll be here?" I finally asked. We hadn't really discussed the potential length of this improv sleep over. 

"Well, our friends are probably also snowed in. When I called the sheriff's department, they said they had their hands full and it could take another day or two to get to us." He paused. "What about you, Spency? You got a surprise calvary that can come dig us out?"

"No," He said, his tone a bit bitter. "No one's looking for me."

Oh. That wasn't exactly surprising, but to hear him say it out loud was just...sad. It wasn't too long ago that I didn't have any friends, and I lived what I now realized was a sad excuse for a life. It never really occurred to me that Spencer and I might have had that in common. Meeting Jerry, and all our other friends, had changed just about everything for the better. 

"Well," I said softly, breaking the awkward silence, "I'm sure someone will come dig us out eventually."

  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this went from a fun Snowed In AU to a disaster film. Enjoy!

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. With the heat back on, we could go our separate ways for the night, and I was never more grateful for it. 

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, Blackjack. Are you excited?" Jerry leaped onto the bed, his Frozen boxers glittering in the light of the bedside lamp.

"I'd be a lot more excited if it was just a party of two," I grumbled while I changed into my flannel pajamas. Jerry stopped bouncing.

"Oh...I mean, I could leave you and Spencer alone if that's what-"

"I meant _us_ , Jerry."

"Oh. Yeah, I knew that. But the offer still stands."

"Don't even joke." The memory of my rude awakening that morning replayed in my head. How Spencer had felt just like Jerry. I hated him so much for that. Why couldn't he be cold and slimy like his personality?

I climbed into bed and Jerry quickly joined me. I'd taken my meds, and was ready for a much better night of sleep tonight. But, as fate would have it, that wasn't going to happen.

I'd barely dozed off when a thundering crash shook the whole house. I jolted upright and looked at Jerry, who looked equally surprised. We both ran to the door and threw it open. The house looked normal and unassuming. No crazed killer on a destruction binge or anything.

"Spencer?" I called warily. I heard a muffled and painful moan coming from the guest bedroom. I knocked on the door. "You okay in there?"

"Fuuuck."

That wasn't helpful. 

"Can we come in?" I tried to doorknob and was surprised that it wasn't locked. I guess Spencer trusted us a whole lot more than we trusted _him_. When I stepped inside, Jerry close behind me, I couldn't help but gasp.

There was snow and debris everywhere. Long boards shot down from the ceiling and rested on the dusty floor. The moon shined brightly on the mess in front of us. The roof had collapsed under the weight of the snow, and Spencer was underneath it.

" _Oh shit,_ " Jerry breathed behind me before he approached the mess. "Spencer? Buddy? You still alive?"

I had to debate with myself what I wanted the answer to be. 

"Yeah, but," He paused. He sounded winded, like the breath had been knocked out of him. "I'm stuck. And I think my arm is broken."

Jerry moved to start pulling boards and chunks of roof off the pile, but as soon as he dislodged one piece, the whole unstable mess lurched and Spencer screamed in pain. "Fuck!"

Jerry and I jumped back as more snow and roof shingles fell to the floor. How were we supposed to get him out of there without getting stuck ourselves? 

"Uh...how about now?" Jerry called to the trapped man.

Spencer cursed again and let out another strangled cry. Well, he was definitely still alive...for now. 

"What do we do?" I looked at Jerry. "We can't move all that crap without more of it falling in. We need the fire department or something." 

Jerry, still in his boxers, went to grab his phone and put on some decent clothes. I stayed to watch the pile to make sure it didn't go anywhere or something.

When Jerry came back, he had a frown that I knew meant bad news. "The line's down. I can't even get through to them." I then remembered that our town's fire department was hot garbage. 

"I can see your feet," Spencer croaked. "There's a gap right in front of me."

I bent down and saw what he was talking about. There was a tunnel formed by the fallen boards that was just big enough for... _me_. I took my phone out of my pocket and shined it down the hole, right into Spencer's face. He was about ten feet away, and all I could see were his head and shoulders. The rest I had to assume was pinned under debris. 

Now I had a choice to make. I could crawl through that tunnel and risk my life for a man that had tried several times to take mine, or I could do the smart thing and just wait until we could get some help, and just hope he lasted that long. 

"We should wait for the line to open back up, and we can call someone." I turned to Jerry, making sure I was making the right choice. Come on Jer, back me up on this…

"You could probably fit through that hole, there, huh, Jack?"

Dammit Jerry. 

"I...uh."

" _Oh._ " Jerry seemed to catch on to my hesitancy. "If you wanna try, that is."

If I died trying to be a hero here, I would be giving up a life I'd always dreamed of: friends, someone I loved, a place where I belonged. If Spencer died waiting on the fire department, what exactly did he lose? He'd already told us no one even missed him.

Fuck. That was depressing. And it only made me feel bad for even thinking it. 

"Jack," Spencer's voice sounded like it was getting weaker. "I know I've done some awful shit, and I'm sorry-"

"Save your breath," I interrupted. I'd gotten good at sniffing out Spencer's manipulative lies. I didn't even need to see him to know he was pulling his usual bullshit out of his ass. 

But, deep down, I knew that I couldn't just let him die, either. Even though I knew full well he wouldn't do the same for me. 

"This is the worst Christmas ever," I griped as I got down and started combat crawling through the tunnel of broken wood and snow. I reached Spencer pretty quickly. He wasn't looking so good, either. I saw why as soon as I turned my phone light on and shined it around the small pocket he was trapped in. A large board was laying across his back, pinning him down to the floor so tightly I doubted he could get much air. His face was bloody from a giant gash above his forehead, and his arm was twisted underneath him at an unnatural angle. 

"Shit. Jerry, I need like a crowbar or something."

"Will a broom work?"

"Uh...yeah, that should work!"

Spencer's eyes were looking more glazed over by the second. I gave him a good smack.

"Oh no you don't. I didn't crawl my ass in here for you to go and die."

"Fuck you," he rasped. 

Suddenly, a broom came flying up the tunnel handle first and smacked into my leg. I grabbed it and shoved the end under the board, then laid on it with all my weight. The board lifted enough for Spencer to suck in some air and drag himself out from under it. Wow, those Christmas cookies were paying off. 

Spencer made a chorus of painful groans and curses as he tried to fix his broken arm into a position that would allow him to crawl out of here. The only problem was, moving the board to free him had drastically reduced the size of the tunnel I'd come in through. It looked like a small dog could maybe fit through it now. 

The pocket that the boards and wreckage had formed was barely big enough to fit us both, and even then, I could feel his breath on my face. I could also feel the cold air blowing in from outside. At least it looked like it had stopped snowing.

"Jerry, what's the plan?" I asked while Spencer caught his breath. 

"Uh, well. I could try to climb out through the hole and go get help. But I don't know how long that would take if everything's buried."

If he did that, would the pile shift again and crush us both? "Maybe not, Jerry. If you move these boards, this whole thing could come down." Unless. "Wait. Maybe try from the attic? There'd be a lot less climbing involved at least." 

"Yeah, okay. What about Spencinator? How's he looking?" Spencer rolled his eyes and groaned at yet another nickname.

"I think he's okay for now. Just try to be quick!" I didn't want to be crammed in here with him all night. 

"Aye aye captain!" I could hear Jerry running off. Not long after, I heard his footsteps above us in the attic, and the creaking of unstable boards.

"Be careful!" I shouted up to him, praying that he wouldn't pick now of all times to be reckless. The boards rattled and groaned under his weight as he started climbing. I craned my neck to try and see him, but all I could see was a sliver of sky. "Jerry?" 

"I'm out! Freedom!" 

I sighed a breath of relief. 

"Wow, it's like some Day After Tomorrow shit out here. Is that the Statue of Liberty?!"

 _I_ rolled my eyes this time. "Jerry, please."

"Okay, sorry. Just trying to make light of the situation. I'll be back ASAP! Don't go anywhere!" And like that, he was gone. I hoped and prayed that he would be okay. 

"Well. This is fun." I'd almost forgotten that Spencer was even here. 

"Shut up."


	9. Chapter 9

The passing minutes felt like hours without Jerry to keep me company. Sitting there with Spencer was certainly no treat. I could practically _feel_ the tension fill the air. Or maybe that was my own breath, turned to steam from the subfreezing wind blowing in from the hole in the roof. 

"So, how long you been screwing that idiot for?" 

I received the question like a slap in the face. My fists clenched right before I realized that a reaction was exactly what Spencer was looking for. He was bored, and trying to get a rise out of me for his own entertainment. 

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," I said coldly, calmly. I could tell that not getting the response he was hoping for pissed him off. So he jabbed harder.

"I can't believe you settled for such a fucking dumbass."

I grit my teeth. I wasn't going to humor him. I wasn't going to play his games. 

"I mean, that girl Sabine was pretty hot before you went and got her killed. And you replaced her with some strung out hippie boy?" 

And just like that, he'd stepped on the wrong nerve. I saw red. I threw myself across the small space and wrapped my hands around his neck. His shit eating grin pissed me off even more until I cracked his head against the board behind him and wiped it right off. That hit was extremely satisfying for a few seconds, until I realized that, even with a broken arm, Spencer was still bigger, faster, and stronger than me. 

I landed one more good punch before he was on top of me, shoving me into the lumber behind me. He let out a cruel cackle as he pressed his one good hand against the side of my face, pinning me there just out of my reach. I struggled and fought to get free. I wanted to knock his teeth out of his mouth. I wanted to rip his fucking face off!

The whole pile of wreckage creaked and shifted a few inches towards me, stealing back several inches of what little space we had. Spencer let up, distracted by the potential danger, and I hauled back and kicked him square in the jaw with my prosthetic leg. The sound it made when it collided was music to my ears. 

Spencer fell back against the wood beams and broke one clean in half. Several hundred pounds of snow and broken roof came down, and just barely caught itself before crushing us. A beam fell down right in between us, as if the house was telling us to "knock that shit off".

I brushed the snow off my head and clothes, and resisted the urge to go at Spencer again. He was still rubbing his jaw, and I could only hope he'd learned his lesson. 

"The fuck is wrong with you?" I finally asked, my voice still shaky from the adrenaline. "Are you mad that I have friends and you don't? That I have someone who loves me, and you don't?! Is that it, Spencer? Are you jealous of me?" 

Spencer's cold eyes shot towards me. "Jealous?" He growled. "How could I be jealous of _you_? Look at you: you're weak, you're pathetic, you haven't done anything to deserve what you have!" 

Oh shit. He actually _was_ jealous. 

"I left this shithole town. I found a career. I made a shit ton of money. And when I came back, what the fuck did I find? _You,_ the scrawny kid who's methhead parents forgot him, who never left this town, who worked at a shitty gas station, had what I never did." 

"So what, you hate me because I'm happy? Because I have a decent life and you don't? That's no one's fault but your own, Spencer. No one is forcing you to be an asshole." 

"You don't get it, Jack. You never have, and you never will. _That's_ why I can't stand you. You're so goddamn blissfully unaware of everything, and people like me have to pick up the slack."

"You're delusional," I spat. I was so done with his bullshit. I turned my back on him and ignored his slury of insults until he wore himself out and went silent again. 

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

The sun was coming up outside, and the dark we'd been sitting in slowly turned to light. I was worried sick about Jerry. Was he okay? Has he found help? What was taking him so long? 

I'd shifted around the tight space several times, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't put one body part to sleep. Eventually, I gave up and laid on the wet, cold floor and shivered. 

Spencer had gone quiet after his attempts to goad me backfired. I could see he had a large blood stain running down his back from the fresh gash on the back of his head. Served him right, honestly.

I would have been happy to spend however long this lasted in this tense but tolerable silence. But, as usual, Spencer couldn't take the sheer boredom.

"I wouldn't have come back here," He said out of nowhere. Here we go again. "I did because I had to. When I got diagnosed with a "personality disorder", the military gave me an honorable discharge. Which sounds nice and all, but my paperwork got so shuffled around and fucked up that I was denied my benefits. Essentially, they didn't want to admit that I'd ever worked for them, so that they could deny all the shit they had me do." 

He paused for a moment. "I never thought I'd have to come back to this shithole town, but it was all I had left. It wasn't like my _family_ was gonna' help me, but at least I had some connections here."

"Well, I mean, you _did_ burn down their house and try to kill them," I muttered a little too loud. Spencer let out a cold laugh.

"Yeah, everyone ate that shit up when that rumor started. But I didn't start that fire. It was ol' Pop's idea. The house needed too many repairs and they didn't have the money to fix it up, so he figured he'd burn it down and collect some insurance money. He was always a fucking idiot. He didn't realize how fast straight gasoline caught. And he didn't realize that by locking his "problem child" in the basement to burn, he'd ensured that I was the only one to make it out untouched."

"Oh shit," I said under my breath. I didn't know if he was lying or not, but it seemed awfully specific of a story, even for Spencer. 

He chuckled. "Yeah. So they weren't exactly at the top of my address book. I got contacted by the people I work for now, and that turned out to be the best, and worst, thing to happen to me. I made a shit ton of money, I got to hunt down monsters and be a badass, and maybe even crack some heads every once in a while."

"Sounds right up your ally," I added half heartedly. Why was he telling me all this? I wasn't, nor did I ever want to be, his friend. Was he so desperate to vent that _I_ was his best shot at being heard? That thought was pretty sad. I was slowly realizing that a lot of things about Spencer were pretty sad. On the outside he may have looked like he had everything figured out, but inside, I could still see that angry kid tearing up grasshoppers out of frustration. 

"It is. For the most part. But then some times I come back with a hole blown in my stomach," He turned to glare at me, "And I have to give up a little more of myself to survive." 

"Well that's cryptic as hell," I griped. Was he trying to make me feel bad for shooting him? Because I absolutely refused. He'd literally cost me my leg _and_ a finger. 

"They use the same shit they make those clones with to put me back together again. It hurts like hell. And every time they do it, I feel less...human. I'm just a few more accidents away from becoming one of those things myself."

Okay. Maybe I felt a _little_ bad. Because that sounded pretty fucked up. He moved a hand up to wipe his eyes and _was Spencer crying?!_ I was so caught off guard that all I could do was stare with my mouth slacked open. I didn't know Spencer was capable of actual emotions, and sure, I saw him fake cry that one time, but these tears were genuine. I was sure of it. 

I was caught between pretending I didn't notice and trying to make things better. I awkwardly reached past the beam separating us to pat him on the back.

"There there," I said dumbly. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Uh...showing sympathy?"

"Well stop. It's weird."

I didn't need to be told twice. I retreated back to the boards I'd been pressing myself against. Silence took over again. I prayed Jerry would come back before Spencer expected me to participate in this feelings purge.


	11. Chapter 11

I'd lost track of time again. I hadn't taken my medicine today. When I came to, the sun was setting, casting long shadows through the hole in the roof and cutting off most of our light. I blinked and looked over at Spencer, who was staring back at me evenly.

"It's really fucking freaky when you do that," He said flatly.

"Do what?"

"You've been staring at that spot on that board for, like, three hours. Give a guy a warning before you go all Rain Man, would ya?"

It occurred to me that my time losses probably only freaked Spencer out because I'd done the same thing when I, well, made my  _ first _ attempt on his life. I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut short.

"I got a rescue for a party of two!" 

Jerry's voice made my heart leap. I almost stood, before realizing that doing so would cause me to hit my head and probably knock me out. 

"Jerry! Thank god," I could have cried with relief, but I refrained. "Who did you bring?"

"Oh Jack, you're gonna' love this when you see it! Just you wait!"

That...didn't answer the question.

"Okay...what's the plan?" 

"We're gonna throw a rope down through this hole right here and haul you out Bass Pro style. Alley-Oop!"

A thick rope came tumbling down through the hole above us. I grabbed it and held on, ready to get the hell out of here. And then I stopped. Spencer wouldn't be able to hold it on his own with his broken arm. Sometimes I really hated having a conscience.

"You go first," I said, turning to Spencer. "I'll tie it around you so you can be pulled up." 

Spencer crawled towards me. "God you're so soft," he jabbed. 

"Don't make me regret this."

I wrapped the rope around his torso and behind his legs so he could hold on with one arm and balance in the makeshift seat. 

"Okay! We're ready!" 

Spencer slowly began to ascend towards the hole, and then, finally, disappeared. The rope came back down a few minutes later, and I eagerly held on. As I was pulled out, I saw the "rescue team" that Jerry had found. 

There was a man dressed like Santa Clause standing next to Jerry on the ground, next to a sleigh. And the rope pulling me out was attached to eight live reindeer. What the hell, Jerry? 

When Spencer and I finally got off the roof and touched solid, snow covered ground, the first thing I did was throw my arms around Jerry. 

"I was so worried," I said into his chest before I leaned up to kiss him. Spencer lurked behind us, eyeing the faux Santa. 

"You boys have been very good this year," Santa said to Jerry and I, "You overcame so many obstacles, and still managed to keep that Christmas spirit. For that, I'll grant you each a Christmas wish." 

Wow. He was really laying the act on thick. Whatever. I played along. "Honestly, all I want is a nice, normal Christmas for once."

"Then it'll be done. And you, Jeremy?"

"Hell yeah! I want a unicorn!" He paused, as if he thought of something better. "No wait. Can I change my answer?"

Santa shrugged, then nodded.

"I want this snowmageddon to last a little longer, so Jack and I can have New Year's together." He smiled and put his arm around my shoulders. I totally didn't cry.

"That's not a problem young man." Santa's eyes twinkled with a joyful light. He turned towards Spencer.

"Now Spencer, you're normally at the top of my naughty list. But, I think the last few days of good behavior, er, relative to your usual, has earned you a wish as well. What would you like?"

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it'd be nice if you could fix my arm."

"Of course I can." Santa smiled and waved a hand towards Spencer's arm, which  _ magically healed all by itself. _

"Holy shit!" I blurted.

"Aw man, I should have kept the unicorn wish!"

Santa laughed a jolly "Ho ho ho!" At our remarks. I guess...I guess he was the real deal? I don't know why that would even surprise me these days, honestly. 

"Well, you boys have a merry Christmas. It's been a pleasure." Jolly Saint Nick went back to his sleigh to hook his reindeer back up. And Spencer turned to Jerry and I.

"I want you both to know something," He said.

"Yeah?" I asked, "What's that?"

"These past few days...have changed absolutely nothing!" His face split into that wicked grin of his. Spencer turned and charged at Old Father Christmas. He pulled a piece of garrote wire from his pocket and wrapped it around Santa's jolly neck. Before either of us could stop him, Spencer hauled the old man onto the sleigh then jumped in and took the reigns.

"On Venison, on Roadkill, On Babi's Mom!" He cackled gleefully as the reindeer took flight and flew away into the sunset. I blinked, unable to process what I'd just witnessed. Finally, I turned to Jerry. 

"Let's go back inside." 

As I spoke, gentle snowflakes began to fall again. It looked like this snowpocalypse was going to last just long enough for us to enjoy New Year's in peace. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
